Rain
by LiveLaughLove5
Summary: Fuji loved the rain. He would surrender everything to the raindrops. They could wash everything away for a moment; everything except his love for Tezuka.


It was raining. Fuji was sitting by the window, his normally brilliant eyes shaded by the grey clouds. He could almost feel the rain drops landing on his skin, leaving tinging spots. Yet, he was far away from the thing he loved so much. The glass separated Fuji from the storm.

Tezuka was like the storm. No matter how close Fuji stood to Tezuka, there was a barrier between them. Fuji didn't know how strong it was, or how much strength was needed to break it. Fuji didn't even know if he could get through it. He did know how how to break it. Fuji didn't even know if he could break it. The pain was almost assured, but he wasn't sure if it would be worth the risk. Any attempt to reach Tezuka could leave him battered; or worse, broken.

The rain fell in sheets, a soft hiss arising from the pavement. Fuji let his eyes unfocus until all he could see was a shimmering curtain of rain. He loved rain. It fascinated him. A lot of people grumbled about the rain and how inconvenient it was, but he loved it. He loved the way the light sometimes caught the drops. He would watch for hours to see a ripple form only to merge into other ones, and eventually disappear. They had their impact, and they were gone. Yet, another one would inevitably follow. His gaze would shift slightly from one raindrop impact to the next. They were all similar, but there was enough difference in them to make it interesting.

Tezuka was the only one who seemed to understand Fuji's fascination with the rain. Everyone else laughed it off and talked about a "tensai's quirks". Tezuka realized that Fuji did not love the rain because he was a tensai. Fuji loved the rain because he was Fuji. It was just a part of him, like many other parts, that other people did not understand. He might not have completely comprehended why Fuji liked the rain so much, but he admitted that he saw the appeal. He even admitted the special appeal he could potentially see it holding for Fuji.

Although Tezuka did not really know why Fuji loved the rain, he didn't question it. He accepted it with a small smile. He seemed to like Fuji's eccentrities, unlike most of the other people they knew. They would question him, and try to fit his answers into the mold of acceptable reasons. They hardly ever succeeded. Fuji did not reveal his true feelings because he knew that they would puzzle everyone else even more. How did the rain make him feel safe? Why did someone as seemingly perfect as him keep broken things? Their questions made Fuji feel even more alone than usual. He laughed it off even as sadness seeped through him.

A gust of wind blew past, startling the raindrops into an erratic rhythm. The disturbance passed, and the drops relaxed into their silvery melody. Fuji touched the window with his finger, and quickly removed it. A small fingerprint remained, but the coolness from the rain slowly enveloped it until no trace of it remained. Fuji smiled. Sometimes, he couldn't explain his fascination with rain either. For someone who was obsessed with permanence, the transitory nature of rain gave him an unlikely source of happiness. It was the single most beautiful thing he had seen, and not many people could share it with him. He could keep it to himself. Yet, he would share it with the very few people who understood. He chose to only share it with Tezuka though.

Tezuka always looked up at the sky whenever Fuji dragged him on a "rain adventure". Fuji had always looked at the ground; at the quicksilver puddles and sweeps of wet hills. Tezuka looked straight up. He seemed to enjoy the change in perspective. He convinced Fuji to look up by unconsciously letting his face relax. When Fuji looked up for the first time, it was like his entire world changed. He loved the rain. He had always found a way to end up outside whenever the clouds decided to favor the world. When Fuji was little, he would run outside in the rain, delighting in the feel of the raindrops on his skin. As he got older, Fuji started appreciating the rain more. He looked at how it washed away all the grime of the world and how everything seemed like it got a fresh start after a storm. He walked outside alone, knowing that the comforting pats of the raindrops would keep him from feeling lonely. He wanted a fresh start too.

That was one thing Tezuka had trouble understanding. He did not want Fuji to have a new start. He felt like the past was important. Even though Fuji had been hurt, Tezuka did not let Fuji pretend that nothing ever happened. He forced Fuji to admit that some things in the past had scarred him, but they did not define him. Fuji had gotten himself this far, and in Tezuka's eyes, everything that happened was acceptable because they let the world have someone like Fuji. That didn't mean the Tezuka would stop Fuji from his little walks in the rain. He would let Fuji go, his guarded eyes not revealing his thoughts. Fuji knew why Tezuka never prevented him from leaving. Fuji needed the time with the rain. He needed to hear the soft patter of raindrops and feel the cool water slide down his face. He needed to smile at the thunder and lightning; his face lit up with more than the sky's flashes of light.

Tezuka could distinguish one nuance of Fuji's face from the next, but he never seemed to realize how transparent Fuji's affection for him really was. The truth was, after all these years, Fuji had finally admitted to himself that he loved Tezuka. It had taken him many battles with himself to give in. He found it difficult to trust anyone outside of his family, but Fuji let himself care about Tezuka with a depth that frightened him. Although Fuji was impulsive, he was also cautious. His affection for Tezuka had been growing for years; almost as long as he had been denying it. Fuji did not want to fall in love. He did not want to get his heart broken. He did not want Tezuka to break his heart.

A streak of lightning slithered across the sky, illuminating the conflict on Fuji's face. He wanted to go out in the rain, but he did not want it to disappoint him. What if Tezuka only saw him as a friend? What if he was disgusted by Fuji's love, even though it was the most pure thing he had felt? Tezuka had inexplicably inserted himself into every aspect of Fuji's life until even the rain was associated with him. Fuji would hear Tezuka's name in every fallen raindrop. He would hear his indecision; his fear in every splatter. Fuji did not want to lose Tezuka. He did not want to lose the rain. He would rather sit inside and watch the thing he had loved the most instead of taking a risk. He would settle for second best.

The clouds swirled into a delicate spiral. The overcast sky seemed to glow with the promise of sunlight behind it. The world was bathed in a different kind of glow. Fuji felt tears come to his eyes. This was the single most untarnished thing he had seen. Its imperfections increased its' beauty until Fuji wanted to tear his eyes away. He never looked away, however. He always watched the rain, longing to go outside.

A sudden patter on his window distracted Fuji. His focus shifted until he saw the slowly moving drops slip down the glass. They silently drew patterns on the window, an intricate code meant only for those who were willing to attempt to decipher it. "Why not?" 'Why not indeed?', Fuji wondered. He was scared of losing what he had, so he would not risk gaining something great. He might lose Tezuka's trust, but he would risk losing Tezuka's love if he didn't say anything. Fuji knew that their friendship ran deep enough to allow Tezuka to forgive him even if he did not feel the same way. It might take years, but Tezuka would be willing to let himself grow close to Fuji again. This was assuming that he didn't feel the same way.

What if Tezuka loved him back? Fuji felt his breath catch in his throat as he contemplated the possibility. He had silently let his affection for Tezuka grow over the years, but he had never once given words to it. They were graduating from college in a month, but Fuji had not gained the courage to voice the words that had been circling in his head for over eight years now.

A loud burst started Fuji, and he looked up just in time to see a flash of lightening streak across the sky. A couple seconds later, the thunder followed; the rumbling reverberating in Fuji's chest. A small smile slipped across Fuji's face as he stood up in one fluid movement. He would tell Tezuka. He had been suffering through petty jealousies, stifled joys, and secret hopes for such a long time now. It hurt him, but not in a bad way. He enjoyed all the emotions that Tezuka brought out in him, simply because Tezuka was the cause. It was time to stop though. He needed to know if those years meant something. He needed to know if all his unspoken wishes had reached wherever he had sent them to.

As Fuji slid open the door, his face lightly misted by the hissing rain, he stopped. A sudden barrage of last-minute doubts overwhelmed him. What if Tezuka didn't love him back? What if Tezuka had never even considered it? Worst of all, what if Tezuka was so repulsed by Fuji that he would willingly erase their near decade of memories? Fuji could not live without those memories. They had defined him for so long; he could not imagine life without them.

The raindrops fell by his feet, almost close enough to touch. Fuji felt the old excitement stir inside of him by the proximity of the rain. He loved the rain, yet he had willingly kept himself away from it. That wasn't logical. What was so wrong about being in love with Tezuka? It was the best feeling in the world to care about someone. To have Tezuka care about him too was a situation too wonderful to comprehend. Fuji had a chance at unblemished happiness. What was holding him back? "Tezuka," Fuji's voice sounded dreamy, even to his own ears, "I love you." Fuji smiled, and stepped out into the rain.


End file.
